Chapter 14
Wait. What?
What the hell?
It took a few seconds longer than Cole would’ve liked, but he came to his senses and shoved Will back.
Not that he got far—this cockpit was tiny—but at least now he could breathe.
Sort of. Because he was staring into Will’s eyes from just a few inches away, his lips still tingling from that kiss he had absolutely not been hungrily returning.
Seriously—what the hell?
One minute, Will was acting all affronted about Cole thinking he might’ve sold him out. The next…
Without thinking, Cole ran his tongue along his lower lip, and oh God, Will watched.
Fucking locked in and watched and stared at Cole’s mouth.
And when Will shifted a little, Cole couldn’t help a frustrated groan in the same moment Will grinned triumphantly.
Cole’s traitorous body—the same one that had surrendered to that kiss and, yeah, returned it—was giving him away.
“You like me?” His own words echoed in his head… along with all the reasons they’d been discussing that in the first place.
Pressing back against the seat, Cole exhaled. “I liked Marcus too.” He swallowed audibly. “Look where that got me.”
Will’s eyebrows shot up. At first it seemed like he hadn’t understood what Cole had said. Then he clearly did, because he rolled his eyes and practically launched himself back into the other seat. “Dick.”
Cole had never been so simultaneously frustrated and relieved.
He wanted to drag Will back over here and finish what he’d unexpectedly started, and he was also thankful Will was over there and not touching him anymore.
Then he could think. And breathe. And… And figure out what to do next, because while he was pretty sure he’d had a plan before, it had gone up in smoke the moment Will had kissed him.
“So what the fuck happens next?” Will growled.
Cole closed his eyes and pushed out a breath. Then he unbuckled his seat belt. “We start by getting the hell out of here.”
At least he didn’t have to deal with a hard-on as he got out of the plane. Not that the absence of an erection made this situation particularly comfortable. Not when he was walking out of the tiny hangar with a very silent, fuming Will.
Fuck. That wasn’t good. Cole had known the moment the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
Factually correct, sure—but comparing Will to Marcus was a low blow under the best of circumstances.
As much as he’d been hoping for a way to shut Will up ever since the clown had arrived at his apartment, this wasn’t the outcome he’d been after.
The silence was taut and miserable the whole time they were heading out of the hangar and out to the tiny parking lot. The unspoken snark from Will rang in Cole’s ears.
“Did you have a car dropped off, or are we stealing one?”
“So, what now? Do we disappear into a cornfield?”
“What do you mean we’re walking?”
Will kept quiet, though. Had it not been for his shoes crunching on the gravel as they walked alongside the road, Cole might’ve thought Will really had disappeared into one of the cornfields.
He was there, though. Silent. Cold. Gaze fixed straight ahead.
Fuck. Cole didn’t like this at all. The stealth was great for the time being, but not like this. As soon as they were someplace safe, he had to fix the air between them.
He wasn’t sure how, but he had to.
They were half a mile or so from the airport when Will spoke, startling Cole so bad he almost staggered into the ditch.
“So where exactly are we going?” His voice was flat and frosty.
“Um.” Cole cleared his throat as he recovered.
Gesturing ahead, he said, “There’s a sports bar up the street.
” He paused, expecting Will to tease him about stopping for a beer or wanting to catch the game.
Of course, there was no teasing. Will was in no mood.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Cole said, “Places like that, people show up in older cars. The kind that can still be hotwired.”
“Oh.”
And… that was it. No question. No snark. Not even an annoying pet name.
Yeah, Cole had seriously fucked up.
One way or another, he had to fix it. How?
No idea, especially considering he sucked at conversations.
He’d grown up in a house full of people who didn’t talk about feelings or emotions, and he didn’t think he heard his first in-person apology until he was in college.
Problems were swept under a rug until the help came along and got rid of them.
When Dad was mad at Mother, he decompressed with one of his various mistresses.
When Mother was pissed off at Dad, she spent his money.
Eventually they’d act like nothing had ever happened, and everyone would move on.
Will wasn’t Cole’s spouse, but they were joined at the hip for the time being. Assuming of course Will didn’t throw up his hands, say “fuck it,” and hitchhike into the sunset.
As much as Cole hated to admit it, he needed Will.
And as much as he hated to admit it even more, he wanted him here. He didn’t want to do this alone, and he didn’t want to do it without Will’s admittedly useful skills and insight.
Cole had to fix this.
How? No idea.
But he had to.
First things first—get a car and get someplace safe.
Then it was time for the most dangerous, high-stakes op he’d ever attempted:
Unfuck things with Will.
Acquiring a vehicle and getting to a safe place—that was easy. Outside the sports bar a mile and a half from the airport, Cole hotwired an early 1990s Honda Civic. Half a mile later, outside a different bar, they switched the license plates with another vehicle.
From there, they drove a solid hour into the hills of backwoods Virginia, where they found a Walmart that was open late. Getting their hands on a couple of burner phones was easy, and they also grabbed some food and bottled water.
In the car, Cole pulled up an app for vacation rentals. Sure enough, there were a few in the area. After a few messages with an owner and a credit card number from one of Cole’s aliases, they had a place for them to hunker down for the night.
“Do I want to know?” Will groused.
Cole shrugged. “It’s a place to lay low for a couple of nights.”
Will was silent for a good mile before he apparently couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to tell me?” His irritation wasn’t as fun as it had been prior to things going south in the cockpit.
Adjusting his grip on the wheel, Cole said, “I found a vacation rental. Told the owner we had a reservation with another, but it got canceled, and I basically begged and pleaded for a last-minute reservation for tonight.”
“And… that worked?”
Another shrug. “The calendar for that rental is wide open for the next three months. That owner is going to take any reservation he can get and not ask questions.”
Will grunted but, like the desperate cabin owner, didn’t ask questions. Cole wasn’t sure if the silence was because Will trusted him to have all their ducks in a row, or if he was pissed enough that he was willing to take his chances. Neither option made Cole feel any better.
The silence lingered all the way to their destination, which was a rickety house that had been tucked into the woods for at least a hundred years.
It had been advertised as having “rustic charm,” which Cole could only assume was a nice way of describing a desperate need for landscaping, painting, and a new porch, not to mention a new roof.
He wasn’t going to turn up his nose at the condition of the place, though, because it was safe, secluded, and couldn’t be traced to him or Will. It could be wallpapered from floor to ceiling in AI-generated cubism and Marcus’s attempts at counterfeit paintings and Cole wouldn’t bitch. Not tonight.
Will didn’t have anything to say either. Cole had a feeling that had less to do with not looking a gift horse in the mouth and more because he didn’t want to talk to him.
As they followed the creaky stairs up to the two bedrooms, Cole knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. They had to talk, and he had to fix this.
I should get a shower first. It’s been a long—
Cole. Just do it. Now.
He indulged in a petulant sigh, then schooled his expression and left the bedroom.
Will had gone downstairs, and he was rattling around in the kitchen.
When Cole walked in, Will was making himself a sandwich.
He glanced at Cole but said nothing. Normally, Cole would’ve expected Will to offer to make a sandwich for him, too, dressing up the offer with pet names just to drive him nuts, but not this time.
Cole leaned against the opposite counter, resting his hands on its edges, and rolled his shoulders. “Listen. About earlier…”
Will’s spine straightened. Every muscle in his body went rigid, and his jaw worked. Still, he didn’t speak.
Cole struggled not to shift his weight. Every floor and fixture in this building creaked if he so much as looked at it sideways, and he didn’t want anything giving away his nerves. “What I said in the plane—it was a cheap shot.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
As soon as he’d said it, he cringed inwardly, expecting a barrage of heckling about how he probably never apologized for anything. After all, who ever said they were sorry in a rich, dysfunctional family? All accurate, too.
Instead, Will laid down the butter knife and turned around, facing Cole. “I can’t even tell you what’s worse—you thinking I’d sell you out, or you still thinking I’m to blame with all the shit with Marcus.”
Cole shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t actually think you’d sell me out.
I didn’t think Lilith would either. Situations like this—I’ve learned the hard way a few times to be paranoid.
Err on the side of distrusting someone and apologizing for it later.
Because if you’re wrong the other way…” He half-shrugged.
Will quirked his lips, gazing at the linoleum between them with unfocused eyes. “Okay. Okay, I guess that’s true.”